


Warlord of Dathomir

by shadowmaat



Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: Multi, Obscure EU references, Pining, Politics, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-28
Updated: 2019-11-28
Packaged: 2021-02-18 08:15:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,228
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21591316
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shadowmaat/pseuds/shadowmaat
Summary: Bail and Breha entertain a delegation from the recently liberated Dathomir, and while they know better than to listen to rumor, the reality is far more potent than they expected.
Relationships: Darth Maul/Bail Organa/Breha Organa
Comments: 8
Kudos: 133
Collections: Star Wars Rare Pairs Exchange 2019





	Warlord of Dathomir

**Author's Note:**

  * For [SLWalker](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SLWalker/gifts).



> A treat fill, because I could.

According to the holo reporters on the evening news, “Warlord” Maul of Dathomir was little better than a savage who’d brutally slain his own mother in order to seize power. He wore skins and furs and carried a red lightsaber the likes of which hadn’t been seen since the Jedi-Sith Wars. The “animalistic” tattoos, which were rumored to cover his entire body, were “proof” that he was wild and dangerous.

Bail and Breha had long since given up listening to the stories, knowing that they said more about the newscasters’ Core World biases and their parent companies’ politics than anything approaching reality. 

When they received a message from Lord Maul requesting an audience to discuss a potential alliance between Alderaan and Dathomir, they’d been happy to agree, and the arrival of the delegation had given them a better idea of what they might expect.

It was funny, Bail thought, how the pundits could still be right even when they were wrong. Lord Maul was indeed wearing a leather vest embossed with a complicated pattern, but if that counted as “wearing skins” then there was a sizeable portion of the fashion industry that was just as guilty of it. No fur in sight, as far as he could see. Maul and his companions- an older brother and a younger one- were wearing kilts and the brothers had soft linen tunics rather than a leather vest. 

The billowing black cloak Maul wore seemed to be a statement of rank as much as anything. It was stylish while also obscuring his form. While it was closed, at least. Currently it was clasped only at the neck, and Maul was leaning forward with his arms on the table as he spoke to Breha.

He was well muscled, and Bail caught himself stealing glances multiple times during those preliminary discussions. It’s a habit that extended through the next several days of negotiations and one, he noticed, Breha shared as well. 

For all that the press tries to dismiss Lord Maul as a backwater barbarian, he was matching wits against the Queen of Alderaan and occasionally winning. There were world leaders and respected Senators who had accomplished less and with more time and resources than the Representative from Dathomir.

He was impassioned, and Bail couldn’t help but admire his commitment to his people, most of whom had been enslaved before he led a rebellion to save his brothers from torture and experimentation. Funny how  _ that _ bit never made it into any of the mainstream news cycles. But then they’d mischaracterized Dathomirian markings, too, which Maul’s younger brother Feral had said they were natural, not tattoos.

“I’ve been doing some research,” he had told them. He was little more than a youngling, but according to Maul had been soaking up information like a sponge since Dathomir had gained access to technology and resources beyond the harsh limits that had been imposed by Mother Talzin, the chief of all the clans.

“Apparently this is what all zabrak looked like thousands of years ago, but while our Iridonian, uh, cousins? While they were able to intermingle how they saw fit and eventually lost a lot of their coloration, we’ve been on a strict breeding program to keep us pure!”

He’d stated it as a simple fact, tinged with a bit of pride, but Bail’s stomach had dropped into his feet and when he exchanged a glance with Breha he knew she felt the same.  _ What the hell had been happening on Dathomir? And why hadn’t anyone stepped in before Lord Maul led a revolution? _

Dragging his attention back to the present, Bail took a sip of wine and regarded the man across from him, who was carefully cutting up his steak.

“You’ve laid out the needs of your people and discussed some of what you’re willing to offer in return,” he said. “But why don’t we get into the specifics of exactly what it is you have to offer us?” 

He caught Breha’s glance out of the corner of his eye and struggled not to smile. This was an old game they played; he knew she was already willing to help, but by playing the strong-arm he could sometimes shake loose more information about the petitioners.

Maul put his cutlery down and looked Bail in the eye. As usual, he felt a small frisson of heat shoot down his spine as he found himself the focus of Dathomirian leader’s undivided attention.

“What price would you ask of us?” Maul rumbled.

Bail’s mind blanked. The only response he could come up with was wildly inappropriate and far too personal for a first meeting.

“Nothing that you and your people aren’t willing to share,” Breha said, coming to his rescue.

She smiled at both of them, but as Maul’s gaze shifted to her, Bail caught the briefest hesitation in her expression, followed by a slight coloring in her cheeks. It was reassuring to know he wasn’t the only one affected by their guest.

“We want to make sure everyone can benefit from this arrangement,” Bail said, giving Breha time to recover. “We know Dathomir would benefit from some assistance and perhaps a friend or two in the Senate, but surely you must have some resources at your disposal.”

“So you’ll help us, then?” Savage interjected, only to duck his head and apologize as Maul glared at him.

Bail was braced for The Look this time. He wasn’t entirely sure why it was hitting him harder now when discussions had been going on for several days. Perhaps it was the intimacy of the dinner table, though “intimacy” was a bad word to consider in his current situation. He hadn’t had  _ that  _ much wine, had he?

“We have warriors,” Maul said. “From what I’ve seen of your security, they seem adequate, but if you need disposable soldiers, we can provide them.”

Bail stiffened. “Soldiers are not disposable!”

The glint in Maul’s eyes told him he’d been played. For a “backwater barbarian” Lord Maul was no fool.

“No, they aren’t,” he agreed, pulling out a datapad and tabbing through it. “We have far too many rancors, if you ever had a need for some. And the witch clans have recognized my authority, should you find yourself in need of their services.”

Bail blinked. He’d heard rumors about the witches of Dathomir, who were Force sensitive, but accessed it in ways different from the Jedi. Supposedly Dark practitioners, too, though he was less inclined to believe that.

“They’re far more amenable than your  _ Jedi.” _ Maul’s lip curled on the last word, leaving Bail to wonder how the Dathomirian had crossed paths with the Jedi and why he disliked them. Although given the familiar-looking tube clipped to his belt, perhaps the gossips had gotten  _ some  _ details right.

“It would certainly be interesting to hear from them,” Breha said. “I’ve always been curious about the Force, but while I wouldn’t call the Jedi uncooperative, they can be… remote.”

Maul smiled at her and Bail swore he felt the room warm a degree or two.

“I’ll see what I can arrange for you, Your Highness,” he said, noting something on his datapad. “We have textiles and art, as well, and can offer a share in our trades, but there is something that might be of academic interest as well.”

Beside him, Savage went utterly still and Feral stopped playing with his vegetables to stare at his middle brother.

“Academics is an interest of ours, as I’m sure you’re aware, Lord Maul.” Breha smiled back at him. “Please, tell us more.”

“Brother,” Savage whispered.

“I haven’t even studied it yet!” Feral also kept his voice down.

Bail arched a brow at Breha, who tapped a finger on her chin.  _ Pay attention,  _ is what it meant. Maul waited for the plates to be cleared before continuing.

“The witches of the Dreaming River Clan recently discovered what we believe to be a Star Temple, hidden in the outer edges of their territory.”

Mythology. Maul was quoting mythology at them. Star Temples, and the Infinity Gates they were rumored to contain, were powerful artifacts that predated the Republic and tied into the legends of many worlds. A network of gates had once existed throughout the universe, allowing instantaneous travel between worlds. At least, that’s how the story went.

“If that’s true, the news would be huge,” Bail said, choosing his words carefully. “Why offer it to us?” He reached out, catching Breha’s hand in his own.

“I haven’t, yet.” Maul’s smile was all sharp angles. “I’ve merely informed you of a discovery my people have made.”

Beside him, Feral relaxed, although Savage still looked uncertain, watching his brother.

These three were no fools. The Senate would never know what hit them, and Bail looked forward to being there when Lord Maul made his appearance.

“Of course. My mistake.” Smiling, he dipped his head in acknowledgement and felt Breha squeeze his hand. “Perhaps we should table further discussion of your find until after you’ve had a chance to meet some of the other dignitaries at tomorrow evening’s reception.”

“Yes.” Breha picked up his thread. “I trust the royal tailors were able to accommodate your needs?” 

Feral made a face, but smoothed out his expression at his brother’s glare.

“Yes,” Maul said. “I’m still not convinced of the need for it, but your Lady Jacynder and her associates assure me that we will acquit ourselves well for the, as she called it, ‘meat and fishing market’ tomorrow evening.”

Breha, who had been drinking her wine, began to cough.

Bail chuckled. “Jacy does have a colorful way of expressing things,” he said. “You must have made a favorable impression on her.” 

Conversation moved on to more innocuous topics after that, and Bail had all but forgotten about the references to new wardrobes until the next evening.

  
  


Despite Breha’s scrupulous restraint with the invite list, there were still a fair number of necessary representatives from the local Houses as well as a higher-than-usual showing from members of the Galactic Senate. All there, of course, to gawk at the Outer Rimmers, though a few of the more avaricious ones, at least, may also have been interested in potential trade agreements.

“Presenting Lord Maul Opress of Dathomir, his Advisor, Ser Savage Opress, and his Liege, Ser Feral Opress.”

Silence ripped outward at the Majordomo’s announcement, and when Bail got his first look at the trio, he could see why. Jacynder had taken the opportunity presented to her and run with it. 

Savage and Feral were both dressed in satiny calf-length deep blue coats with silver filigree along the edges that matched with the touches of paint along their facial markings. Deep blue pants blended with their tops and fed into sturdy leather boots. Silver chains hooked between their horns managed to echo the appearance of coronets without actually making them wear crowns. 

Lord Maul was breathtaking. Gold accentuated the markings around his eyes and glittered on his horns. His cloak had received an upgrade, shimmering in shades of black, the filigree on the hems mirroring that of his brothers, but in gold. It billowed as he walked, revealing glimpses of well-muscled biceps unencumbered by sleeves. His top, too, matched that of his brothers, though with a more severe cut that emphasized his form. It stopped just above his knees, and as he walked Bail could catch the occasional flash of metal to indicate that Maul was still wearing his lightsaber.

Soft pants were tucked into boots made of supple black leather with fur trimming. Take that, pundits and gossip-mongers.

Breha caught his elbow in a tight grip as the trio approached. Every eye was on them, including Senator Nolt of Brentaal, a zabrak of Iridonian descent who fanned himself as they passed him. 

“Queen Breha. Viceroy Organa.” Maul bowed deep, as did his brothers. “We thank you for your hospitality.”

“You’re most welcome, Lord Maul.” Breha’s bow was almost as deep, seeming to catch him by surprise. “We’re honored that you chose Alderaan for your first official foray into the world of galactic politics.”

“The honor is all mine, Your Highness.” He took the hand she offered him and pressed a kiss to it.

Bail heard her catch her breath, and then it was his turn.

“Lord Maul.” Following his wife’s example, he deepened his bow. “We look forward to working with you to improve the lives of both our people.”

“As do I, Your Grace.” 

Bail had only the barest prickle of warning before Maul was taking his hand to kiss it as well. Goosebumps flushed across his skin and he had to remind himself he was in a room full of people and needed to control his reactions.

Maul’s golden gaze burned into his own. “Something tells me the two of you may be exactly what I need,” he murmured, too low for the nearby gawkers to hear.

_ Oh no,  _ Bail thought. And:  _ Politically. He meant politically.  _ But seeing that little smile and feeling the faint brush of callused fingers against his palm as Maul withdrew, he had to wonder: was that  _ all  _ he meant?

Wishful thinking, perhaps. But then, at least the evening looked to be even more interesting than he’d hoped. Maybe later he might even learn the answers to some of his questions. If he and Breha got very, very lucky. 


End file.
